Bubble, Bubble, Toil And Trouble Part 1
by Juli84
Summary: A post-Potter series rant, a Next Generation of Hogwarts tale. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 1: Rose, Platform Nine And Three Quarters**

_This is Part 1 of the Harry Potter story I'm writing: It's written in the POV of a bunch of characters, some of which who are mentioned in the end of the series, some of which who aren't. I hope you like it! I'm still working on Part 2. Don't be intimidated by the 18 chapters, they're incredibly short._

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns about 95% of these charries, except for the 5% I made up. I just like to play with them and make them be my puppets. PUPPETS! Mwahahahaha! *laughs maniacally*_

**Rose Weasley**

**Platform Nine and Three Quarters**

I, Rose Weasley, stood at the platform, my neck craned. My dress was white, which I thought might show off what little tan I had to its maximum. We lived in a mostly wizarding community, so I barely ever got to wear Muggle clothes. I rather liked them, as I did many muggle things. My Muggle CD player-radio was carefully packed, along with several of my Muggle CDs. My Hogwarts robes were carefully folded in my trunk, which Mum was carrying. Hugo stood behind me, looking at the people with his eyes larger than saucers.

It was my third year at Hogwarts, and Hugo's first. Dad was off working at the ministry with Mr. Shacklebolt and Uncle Harry, so he couldn't come to see us off. Mum was there, though. She was wearing Muggle clothes too- sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

"Mum, mum, it's the Potters!" Hugo squealed all of a sudden, pointing. I saw Aunt Ginny, her beautiful red hair flying back in the wind as she held Lily's hand. James was in fourth year, and Albus in mine. I blushed as he looked our way and grinned. Many girls had crushes on James and Albus. Not that I did... they were my cousins! I did admit that the whole messy-hair and glasses thing really worked, though.

"Lily!" Hugo said, running forward to meet her. Hugo had a crush on Lily, cousins or not. It was kind of cute, actually. They both had the Weasley red hair. While Hugo was tall, Lily was short. Hugo was freckled, Lily wasn't. Lily and Hugo were both already changed into their Hogwarts robes. They were already whispering about the sorting.

"Rose!" a voice called from behind. It was Dominique and Victoire Weasley. Dominique was entering fourth year. I knew James had a crush on her, and was most likely to ask her to the Hogwarts ball coming up this winter. No one was actually sure that the ball would happen, but all the rumors suggested it was likely. I was doubtful anyone would ask me.

Dominique was tall and pale-skinned. She was beautiful- one eighth veela. Her hair cascaded in silvery blonde waves down to the middle of her back. Her cheeks were always perfectly flushed. She took after her mother in looks and rather in personality, though some of Uncle Bill's disposition seemed to have rubbed off on her. She was quite sweet most of the time, even with the haughty-sounding French accent.

Victoire, who had graduated from Hogwarts two years ago, was also beautiful, though in a different way. She was still tall and pale. Her hair was cut shorter, to about halfway between her shoulders and elbows, and drawn up in a loose bun. The hair color was different- more of a solid blonde, and tints of red could also be found in it. Victoire took much after her father, she was very businesslike and hoped to get a job at Gringotts this year ('til now, she'd been working at Uncle George's shop, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes). Victoire was actually very cool, and had been my babysitter when I was little.

"Hi!" I called to them. Then they found some of Dominique's friends and hurried off.

I stood again, waiting for the train and wondering if I'd ever find some of my friends. Then I caught a glimpse of green hair. "Liz?" I called hopefully. The figure turned around. "Rose!" she cried. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Liz Finnegan was a fellow Gryffindor, daughter of Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown. In a crazy outburst during second year, she'd dyed her hair green. Her mother hadn't been happy, but for the sake of Ireland her father had let her keep it. Liz was just like that- spontaneous, wild, and crazy. She liked to break the rules. She was quite the tomboy, all sharp angles and spiky hair, but had a crush on Albus Potter. Her eyes were green as her hair, her features petite but smiling widely. Her brother, Benji, had graduated just last year and was trying to get a spot on the Ireland team.

"Liz! Have you seen Quelle or Roxanne? Or Lu?" I asked, beckoning her over to where Mum, Hugo, and Lily were standing.

"No, but- ELLE! IS THAT YOU?" Liz shouted into the crowd. At once I spotted her. She blushed and came over. "Gosh, Liz, you don't have to be so loud," she said, waving her arm slightly so her mum could find her way to her. Quelle (or Elle) Bones was the daughter of Susan Bones, and her father had left the family before she was born, after learning Susan was a witch. Elle took her mother's last name. Quelle was dainty and pretty looking, studious, brown-haired, and slightly mousy. She had a diary she wouldn't let anyone else read, though it drove the rest of us crazy. She was also in Gryffindor, though she might have been in Ravenclaw. She was a whiz at most subjects but couldn't fly to save her life. She was pretty much the opposite of Liz.

"Rose! Liz!" she said in greeting, each of us earning a hug. "Where's Roxanne and Lu?"

"I don't know," I said worriedly. "Knowing Roxi, she'll be late. But I haven't heard from Lucy since the thing with her mother this summer. I do hope she's all right."

"Rose? Elle? Liz?" a voice said. We turned around and found Roxi! Roxanne was glamorous, cocoa-skinned, sarcastic, and gorgeous. Boys tried to get her to notice them almost as much as Dominique. Her father, George Weasley (Married to a lady named Angelina) ran WWW and so she always had a good trick up her sleeve and was quite the prankster-- almost as much as her twin brother, Fred. Fred looked almost nothing like her- he'd inherited his father's pale skin and freckled skin, with a mop of bright red hair. Roxi was a beater on the Gryffindor team. She was tough, glam, and supportive. She always had a shoulder to cry on. She wanted to be some sort of fashion designer or something when she grew up. Her hair was twisted up in this sort of elegant knot I instantly envied.

"Hey, guys!" Lucy said, running up. "I've been looking all over! There you are! Mum and Dad are with Molly, who's a prefect this year and is being exceedingly boring... hey! You've still got the hair!" she noted to Liz. Lucy's parents and older sister were somewhat boring, her parents working at the ministry and her sister who was supposedly now a prefect. Lucy was a little odd sometimes, probably because she occasionally hung out with Sola Newt, but she was a true friend. Her hair was strawberry-blonde and soft. She was slightly plump, but everyone saw past it. It was just Lucy-plump.

"How's your mum?" I asked gently. Her mother, Audrey Weasley, had suffered a bad case of Spattergroit that past summer, which was highly contagious and occasionally fatal.

"Better," Lucy said. "Oh, here comes the train."


	2. Chapter 2

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 2: Gemma Webster, the Hogwarts Express**

**Gemma Webster**

**The Hogwarts Express**

"It's gonna be a great year," I said, pushing my hair back with one hand. "Don't you think?"

"Mm," Ashley said. She was looking down at some stupid Teen Witch Weekly magazine. "This magazine's saying that old is in. Do you think I should get something old-looking for the ball? That sounds like such a drag. I hope there's something newer out by then." The witch pushing the trolley of sweets stopped by. "Anything off the trolley?" she asked. "Nah," Ashley dismissed. "It'll ruin my figure."

"I'll get some," I said hopefully. I pulled out a few coins and bought some chocolate frogs. Ashley rolled her eyes at me as I examined the cards and stuffed the chocolate into my mouth.

"So, Gem," she said. "You haven't said a _word_ about the Hogwarts Ball. Who're you going to get to ask you?"

"No one even knows if it's final yet," I pointed out. "Professor Dumbledore isn't really a very social person, if you know what I mean. I actually doubt how likely it is."

"Gemma, you're such a party pooper," Ashley frowned. "I thought I was going to get Ced Davies to ask me, but James Potter is actually cuter. The whole messy-hair thing is in these days. Do you think he'll ask me?"

"I don't know," I said. "Have you ever talked to him before?"

"No," she said seriously. "Maybe I should try to sit next to him in the Great Hall. Or would that freak him out? I don't know. What do you think?"

I gave her a look.

"Or, I could go talk to him right now..." she said. "No. Great Hall is good." I said quickly. Even if Ashley wasn't my dream companion, she was better than sitting alone and looking like a loser. Even at Hogwarts, people (especially the Slytherins) could be brutal teasers. I was Muggle-born and felt like I was always learning stuff. It was always nice to have friends at Hogwarts, even it they had to be like Ashley.

"We should probably change into our robes soon." I said. I looked at myself from the mirror on the back of Teen Witch Weekly. My hair was short and dark, my eyes large and brown. My expression was pretty much surprised looking. Two silver arrow earrings dangled from my ears.

"Which one do you think looks better?" Ashley said, sliding her magazine around. There were two pictures of young witches in dress robes. One was short, low-cut, and pink. The other was long, low-cut, and black.

"I don't know," I said. "My head hurts. I'm going to go to the lavatory, okay?"

"You're no fun. But okay." Ashley pouted. "If you leave, you don't get to take the What's Your Type Quiz..."

That, of course, was just another reason to leave.

I brushed the door aside and sighed as I walked down the narrow hall to the bathroom. I was pretty much just sick of Ashley. When she was little, she had been some fun. But lately she'd been about as shallow as a kiddie pool. The worst part was that she didn't even know it. And she called _me_ clueless. It had happened over the summer. Last year she'd still been Ash; my best friend, prime defender, and fellow Bellycastle Bats fan. Then, when summer vacation rolled around, she'd suddenly gotten this way. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was beautiful now. Over the summer, her rather stringy (no offense) blonde hair had grown longer, fuller, and luscious. Her nose had gotten smaller (or her face had gotten bigger and left her nose behind), making her look all weirdly _feminine_ now. She'd abandoned her boyish figure (which, of course, I still had). She'd written me a letter saying that the name Ash was so juvenile, and she was going by Ashley now. She'd also come to realize that Quiddich was "juvenile" as well, and gave me all of her old Bats stuff. This had led to wearing small amounts of Muggle makeup, ordering Teen Witch Weekly, and obsessing about that stupid ball. And boys. It was a different boy every week... Josh Whats-his-name in our year, then Ced Davies from the Hufflepuff Quiddich team, now James Potter.

I was thinking so hard about Ashley that I didn't even notice James Potter's brother Albus until I'd crashed into him.

"Oh, God," I said, mortified. "I'm sorry. Wasn't looking where I was going..." my voice trailed off. Albus was... different. He'd lost some of his scrawniness and his eyes seemed to be an even brighter green behind his glasses. He looked so much like a younger version of Harry (but without the scar, of course) that it almost freaked me out.

"It's Gemma, right?" he asked. "Yeah. Albus?" I asked, and mentally kicked myself. Everybody knew who Albus was.

"Yeah," he said, grinning. He didn't seem to mind my stupidity.

"Bye. Sorry." I added, and brushed past him to the lavatory.

Either that hadn't been weird, or the Cannons were going to finish top of this year's league. Take your pick.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 3: Lucy Weasley, Sorting and the Feast**

**Lucy Weasley**

**Sorting, and the Feast**

I watched, smiling, as the first years entered the Great Hall. That was me, two years ago. They were so dang cute. I couldn't remember me being that cute.

"Look, there's Hugo," I whispered to Rose as her brother hurried in behind Lily. Professor McGonagall called up each child. The sorting hat looked more gnarled than ever this year, almost threadbare. That made me kind of sad, for some reason. When had it gotten so old? The only possible reason I could think of was the Battle of Hogwarts, all those years ago when the Dark Lord had been destroyed. But that had been so long ago. Maybe I'd just never noticed how old it was.

Before either Hugo or Lily came the "Malfoy brat" as my father might say. I tried to remember his name... Scorpius's little brother... hm... Damien? Something like that?

"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat called out, without barely touching his head. "Whoop-de-doo," Roxanne whispered into Liz's ear.

"Lily Potter!" Professor McGonagall said. Lily, who looked absolutely adorable with her red-orange hair and pale skin and new Hogwarts uniform, hurried up to the sorting hat, placed in on her head, and squeezed her eyes shut as if she were concentrating really hard. So cute!

Sola Scamander and I met glances and smiled. I knew she was thinking the same thing. I was close friends with Sola, even though most people thought she was a few straws short of a haystack. Even if I don't believe in those crumply-horned snork-whatsis, she is a very nice person. And she's taught me all this cool stuff about meditation.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat bellowed. We all clapped and cheered as Lily jumped off the stool and hurried to our table to sit next to her brother.

We all whispered anxiously to the first year Gryffindors until...

"Hugo Weasley!" Professor McGonagall called. Hugo marched up and sat on the stool...

It pondered for so long we started to worry. A Weasley being considered for anything but Gryffindor?

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted. Hugo looked very relieved. We clapped and cheered as Hugo came down to sit by Lily.

Professor Dumbledore said a few words and the feast appeared. There was treacle tart.

It was so great to be home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 4: Rose Weasley, Home Again At Last**

**Rose Weasley**

**Home Again at Last**

The Gryffindor common room was as home as it always was. The boys crowded around the fire putting off studying and playing Chess and Gobstones, while the girls chatted, studied, and laughed in the comfortable chairs and sofas along the outside by the windows. I had wanted my room at home to look like this, and had made many attempts, but there was just nothing like the common room. When I failed for about the seventieth time, I gave up and changed my walls back to pale yellow and pink stripes.

"Let's go unpack," Liz suggested. "I think Quiddich tryouts are tomorrow. We'll want to get our rest."

"Cool," I said. We followed Elle, Roxi, and Lu up the stairs.

"I'm beat," Roxi said, flinging herself onto her bed. You could tell it was hers- the curtains actually had a makeover. They were now striped- thin stripes of pale pink, spring green, cream, and ever so light pastel blue. She'd wanted to splatterpaint the thing, but Quelle had pointed out she'd probably get in trouble.

I unloaded the picture frames from my backpack. One was a picture of my parents, my dad putting bunny ears on my mom as she laughed and swatted his hand away. Then there was Crookie, our beloved family cat, and her litter of kittens... Asha, Gwendolyn, and Esther. As if on cue, Asha jumped out from under the bed to stare quizzically at herself as Gwendolyn chased her tail in the photograph. "You silly," I giggled, giving the top of her head a knuckle noogie. I unloaded the picture of me, the one of Hugo, and one form the last day of school at Hogwarts, with all my friends. Plus Sola Newt. Or Salamander. Or whatever her last name was. I shook my head. I wasn't one of the mean people who called her loony and took her stuff, but she was one odd cookie.

The last thing I took out was my speaker CD player-radio. All my friends teased me for having it, since it was so Muggle, but my Grandpa Arthur gave it to me and he was just so sweet... and there were some CDs I liked too. Taylor Swift was actually quite good.

"Long day," I said as I changed into my pink silk pajamas and sat on my bed. "I think I'll read."

"You're so like your mother," Liz giggled, levitating my book just out of reach. "_Accio Quiddich Through the Ages" _I sighed, snatching it back.

"You're reading that? It's really boring," Liz yawned. "I thought it might help me. You know, for tryouts." I did play a bit of Quiddich on family reunions, or even just against Hugo, and I was an okay keeper. Some older kid beat me to the part last year and I had to be a backup, but I had tried out anyway. I thought I might try out this year too.

"Fred's trying out for beater with us," Roxi grinned at Liz. Roxanne's twin was no competition for her and Liz... they knocked the socks off most of the older kids. They'd both made the Quiddich team last year, as beaters, to everyone's surprise. They'd grown better with Benji's training- although, of course he was gone now- and had improved a ton over the summer. They could probably both play professionally someday.

Tristan Knight, the girl who'd played keeper last year, was out of Hogwarts now. Perhaps I had a better chance? I dug my nose into Quiddich through the ages.

The lineup for the team last year had been Tristan as Keeper; Liz and Roxi as Beaters; Benji, a boy named Darren, and Albus Potter as Chasers; and James Potter was seeker. Albus was quite the seeker too, just like his parents, but James was older and therefore a little more skilled.

This year it was me, Roxi, and Liz trying out. Lucy and Quelle didn't have much talent for Quiddich.

"Rose, you gonna turn that light out? I'm probably going to bed," Lucy grumbled. "You can't go to bed!" Liz whined. "We haven't even stayed up 'til midnight and eaten all the Chocolate Cauldrons I brought!"

"I'll have a cauldron, but after that I'll just go to bed," Roxanne protested. Wow, she must really be tired.

"Are you crazy, Liz? I just stuffed myself with that treacle tart stuff. No way," Lucy said, drawing the curtains shut. "I'm not hungry either," Quelle said, following suit. "Night," I said, turning off my reading light and settling under the covers for the first time since last June.


	5. Chapter 5

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 5: Roxanne Weasley, Quiddich**

**Roxanne Weasley**

**Quiddich**

Some idiotic Muggle song of Rose's woke us all up at the crack of dawn. "Hey!" Quelle groaned as she slowly sat up. "Turn that off right now, Rose Weasley!"

"Sorry! I must have set an alarm!" she said worriedly, tapping it with her wand and turning it off. "Oh gosh, it's six thirty! That's why I set the alarm! Quiddich tryouts!"

"Oh yeah," I said, half-asleep. "Well, better get up then. Has anyone seen my Quiddich uniform?"

"Here it is," Liz said (who was already up and half dressed), throwing me my uniform. "Sure it's mine?" I asked. "Well, yeah," she said. "Who else sews ribbons in various shades of pink and green around the hem? Is that even allowed, by the way? I have a feeling Darren won't like it."

"Who cares," I said, slowly putting it on. "Why'd he have to hold tryouts so freaking early! We haven't even had any food yet!"

"Catch," Liz said, throwing me a chocolate cauldron. Luckily, I caught it and scarfed it down.

In a few minutes, all of us minus Lucy and Quelle (who had "felt like sleeping") were down at the Quiddich pitch, brooms in hand. Rose had a Comet Six Hundred, which was pretty good. Liz's dad had bought her a Nimbus Two Thousand, which was a good broom even though it was around twenty years old. My parents, who were rather Quiddich-obsessed, had got me a Two Thousand and One. Wasn't as good as a Firebolt Three, but it was all right.

"Hello," Darren said. "I'm Darren Wood, and I'll be your Quiddich captain this year. Let's see two laps!" Grudgingly, we all got on our brooms grudgingly, and sped twice around the pitch.

"Good. Weasley, _what_ have you done to your uniform?" he asked me with a sigh. I gave him my most smashing smile.

"Never mind. I'll need to see all of you work.. beaters, line up here. Keepers, there. Chasers, there. James, do you even have any competition? Oh well, line up there anyways."

The Beaters line consisted of Liz, Fred, a pudgy fourth-year, a muscular seventh year, and me. We were to be tested last. James wasn't tested at all, since he didn't have any competition.

We watched as he set chasers and keepers up on the field, having the chasers compete to score goals and the keepers try to block them. I saw that most of the keepers were no good. If I were captain, I'd either pick Rose or this other rather menacing-looking fifth year.

I watched as the fifth year tried to catch a hard ball from a guy I thought was named Peter. Actually, now that I thought about it, Peter was actually kind of cute. And he was good at Quiddich. My type.

I shook my head. Roxanne, you are thinking about boys. What has happened to you.

The keeper's fingertips grazed the ball, but on the wrong side. As she pulled her hand back, she knocked the Quaffle into the hoop.

I watched as Darren took notes.

After what seemed like ages, Darren stopped and started on the beaters. He let them loose, enchanted the scoreboard, and told us to try to hit them through the goalposts. I smiled. Ha. I was good at aim. Liz was possibly a better whacker than me, she could hit it harder. But I was better at aiming.

I watched as six points tallied up under ROXANNE, which had been HUFFLEPUFF before Darren enchanted it, and five points appeared under LIZ (GRYFFINDOR). Fred (SLYTHERIN) only had three and the third looked like it might have been luck. The seventh year (RAVENCLAW) was whacking them so hard she might have killed someone with them, but her aim was lousy so she only had one. The pudgy fourth year (whose name, Greg or something, had been added to the bottom) could barely figure out which end of his broom faced front, so he didn't have any. I watched Darren scribbling... blah blah blah... I hit another bludger through the middle hoop with a perfect CRACK. The ROXANNE score changed to seven. As the bludger turned around and went back through the hoop, it changed to eight. Yee-haw. The seventh year muttered "unfair" under her breath, but no one else said anything. Hey, I wasn't complaining.

When he summoned us back, the scoreboard read... ROXANNE: 9, LIZ: 7, FRED: 4, MIRANDA: 1, and GREG: 0.

Darren gathered us together. "You all, erm, did very well," he sort-of-lied, "But I could only pick seven of you for the team. This will be the Gryffindor team for this year..." he looked at his notes.

"Seeker: James Potter." he paused to look for James, but he'd already gone back inside. "No surprise there. Chasers: Myself, Albus Potter, and Peter Owen. Beaters: Roxanne Weasley and Liz Finnegan. Keeper: Rose Weasley. Backups... okay... chaser backup is Gemma Webster." A girl who I thought was actually quite good blushed. I'd never really noticed her before, but apparently she was muggle-born and in our year. "Beater backup is Fred Weasley. Keeper backup is Selena Roberts. Since no one showed for seeker, we have yet to have a seeker backup. Thanks. Dismissed."

"Rose, you made keeper!" Liz screeched with delight as we started to walk up toward the castle. It was just 7:30. "No one's even going to be going down to breakfast yet," she grumbled under her breath.

"You two were great! No surprise there," Rose said. She looked like she was glowing. "That was really good, Rose," I told her. "You've gotten better since last year. I know you'll make a great keeper."

"My dad was on the team," she said. "Keeper. Mum jokes he was very bad though." she giggled.

"My parents were both on the team," I said. "Dad was a beater, Mum was a chaser. So I have... doubular talent!" I boasted.

"Neither of my parents were on the team," Liz chuckled. "Though my dad loves to watch Ireland play. He went to the World Cup when he was our age. Well, fourth year. But our age, more or less."

"I can't _wait_ for some food," I yawned. "That chocolate cauldron filled up, like, a millimeter of my stomach."

We giggled and headed up to Gryffindor tower.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 6: Gemma Webster, First Day**

**Gemma Webster**

**First Day**

In the Girls Dormitory after Quiddich tryouts, the beater Roxanne came up to me. I was a little nervous. Roxanne was outgoing, glamorous, and not shy. Even though she'd just been playing Quiddich, she looked stunning with her dark brown braided hair pulled up into twisty bun on the top of her head.

"Nice job," she said. "I thought you played well."

"Thanks," I said. "Cool uniform," I added, noting the ribbons wound around the hem of her uniform. It really was cool... even though I wasn't into that kind of stuff.

"Thanks," she said, and smiled. She went off to the other side of the dorm to talk to her friends. Rose Weasley, Liz Finnegan, Quelle Bones, and Lucy Weasley. Lucy and Rose weren't related... or they were, rather, but they weren't sisters. Cousins. There were so many Weasley families it was hard to keep track.

"Gem? Did Roxanne Weasley just talk to you? The one with the ribbons?" Ashley squealed from her bed, where she was again reading Teen Witch Weekly.

"You don't have to say _the one with the ribbons,_ I know who she is. She's the beater on the team."

"She is? I didn't know that," Ashley said. I wanted to tell her, _Yes you do, Ashley. We used to go to every match and scream for her. Back when you were Ash._ "Well anyways, she knows a lot about fashion. You should have us meet sometime. I wonder what she's wearing to the Hogwarts Ball."

I thought about saying something sarcastic, but finally decided not to. I finished changing into my school robes and flopped down on my bed to wait for breakfast. "Aren't you gonna ask me anything?"

"What?"

"Something like, I don't know, _did I make the team_?"

"Sheesh, Gemma. I was just about to ask that." Ashley lied. "Well, did you?"

"Nope, but I'm first sub for chaser! And Roxanne thought I did well!"

"That's cool," Ashley said vacantly, turning back to her TWW. I sighed inwardly and curled up to _The Bellycastle Bats: A Fan's Guide_. It had used to be Ash's before she decided Quiddich was juvenile.

"Gem, you space case! Breakfast!" Ashley called. I put the book away and hurried down to breakfast. First day... wow.

This year I'd chosen to take Divination, Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes, DADA, and Transfiguration. I still didn't know what I'd like to be when I got older, so I'd tried to take a mix of everything. I hadn't felt the need to take muggle studies, being a muggle born and all. I was rather good at transfiguration. What jobs had transfiguration? Agh. Thinking about my future made my head hurt.

Our first class we had together- Divination. I'd heard that Professor Firenze was better than Trelawney, but with my luck I'd have her. We climbed the long spiral stairway to divination, Ash (oh wait, _Ashley_) and I, and when we got to the top we climbed the ladder through the trapdoor nervously.

"Hello, lost spirits," Professor Trelawney said from the front of the classroom. We sat down and prepared ourselves for a long day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 7: Sola Scamander, Poem**

**Sola Scamander**

**Poem**

_The vagabond in me_

_Still sings_

_I see the shadows of lost images_

_Upon the stone walls of the castle_

_Each face ties me here_

_Yet I remember_

_The things I've seen_

_The places I've left an aura of my presence_

_Where I held my mother's hand_

_Where I gasped or sighed_

_I have brought back pieces with me_

_And still I am the old person_

_Who came here years before_

_A mission I don't have_

_But it's odd just the same_

_How I am two people at once_

_How I am millions of people,_

_Each of them standing in a different place_

_With her hand raised in the air_

_Listening to the others, looking through their eyes_

_It's good to be back_

_But in an empty way_

_Sometimes I'd rather be_

_In another's body_

_But at least I still see what she sees_

_For I am she, and she is me.._

_The vagabond in me_

_Still sings._


	8. Chapter 8

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 8: Damien Malfoy, I'm Different**

**Damien Malfoy**

**I'm Different**

I attracted spiteful looks from most of the Gryffindor. I didn't blame them. My family wronged most of them, probably personally, many times, and I was their spawn. My brother Scorpius was a ghost of my father Draco: cold, pointed-faced, pale, pale eyes and hair, greedy and hated by the scarlet house.

I looked more like my mother, if I can say so. My hair was deeper blond to the point it was streaked with brown, my eyes more of a solid green color than my brother and father's.

I'd lost some of my father's talents, however. I was hardly noticed until I'd come to Hogwarts. I disliked money, thinking it was stupid. I was awful at Quiddich, though I followed the Puddlemere team. I watched the Quiddich team with envy, especially James Potter. He had unusually developed talent at my favorite position, Seeker; he was good at every subject (with the possible exception of History of Magic); he had a little brother and sister; the perfect family; he was handsome; and he had many friends. Everything I wanted. Instead I wound up with absolutely no Quiddich talent, average brains, a stupid older brother, the worst family, not exceptional looks, and no friends at all.

I tapped my leg anxiously with my wand as a pretty Gryffindor gave me a putrid glance. I was exasperated. _I'm not like them,_ I wanted to call after her. _I'm different._

I was. Ever since I was a little boy, I had despised the way my father thought, the way he dodged prison sentences and smirked at passerby, wasting away and brooding over his money.

I didn't want money. I just wanted to be me, Damien, and be happy about it.

As I turned in the corner, I passed yet another Gryffindor girl. A Weasley... she was pale-skinned with dark brown eyes, and had a soft look about her. Her hair wasn't as firey as the rest of the clan, more of a softer red. Her eyes widened when she saw me, but her look was of pity rather than hate.

I was surprised. All Weasleys hated the Malfoys. It was a law, and she had broken it.

Something we had in common. I'd broken Malfoy laws as well.

I muttered the password and entered the Slytherin common room. "How's Hogwarts, little brother?" Scorpius spat out at me, but I brushed past him and hurried down the grimy stairs to the Boys Dormitory. And I wished for the millionth time in my life that my name ended with different letters than Malfoy.

I wished for the millionth time that the looks drawn to me in the halls were not hated glances, nor pitied. I wished that there was someone in this castle that saw me and thought, _Damien._ Not _Malfoy brat._

And I began to cry, because I knew it would never happen.

I was eleven, a Malfoy, and sobbing in the deserted Boys Dormitories.


	9. Chapter 9

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 9: Lucy Weasley, She Might Not Make It**

**Lucy Weasley**

**She Might Not Make It**

I couldn't go through the first day of Hogwarts in happiness.

It wasn't my life.

Halfway through Charms class, Albus Potter and a few other boys were messing around in the back trying to burn up leaves and only succeeding in drying them out and/or breaking them, and occasionally singing their eyebrows. Rose, Liz, Roxanne, and Elle were nearer the front. Rose was levitating a leaf with her wand easily, watching it float up and flutter amoung the rafters.

All of a sudden a tawny owl came flying in, and landed on Professor Flitwick's stand, his head higher than Flitwick's ancient one. "Hermes," I whispered.

I ran up and unfolded the letter, watching Hermes fly off to the owlry. I began to read.

_Lucy and Molly,_

_I'm sorry to surprise you like this, but you have to know. Your mother's Spattergroit has taken a turn for the worse and has been admitted to Saint Mungo's. She's in good care, but the doctors think she might not make it. Please have faith she will be all right. She has improved in the last few hours, though her blemishes are still present. Professor McGonagall thinks you will be permitted to visit her over Hogsmeade visits. Please send good well wishes to your mother. She is awake most of the day so far, and would love to hear from you._

_Your father_

I had stopped reading as soon as I'd read "she might not make it".

She might not make it.

She might not make it.

She might not make it.

She might not make it.

She might not make it.

She might die.

Rose's leaf fell from the ceiling. "Lucy, what's wrong?" she asked. I left the letter on the table and ran out of the classroom.

She could be clinging to the last threads of her life right now. She could already be dead. Any second could be her last. I passed the Malfoy son in the hallway and felt sorry for him, though sorrier for myself. He was too young to deserve the spiteful looks and actions that most of the other houses sent him.

But the Malfoy was no matter. My mother was dying. The world was going to use a brilliant, brilliant woman. Spattergroit was going to take her.

Mother.

I walked up to the Gryffindor common room. "Baubles," I muttered to the fat lady, who looked surprised but let me inside. I walked up the stairs to the dormitories, flung myself onto my bed and shut my eyes. The ugly curtain was soft and silky against my hand. I noticed vaguely that I'd left the letter on the table.

She was a brilliant, brilliant woman. I might not see her ever again.

Please don't die, please don't die mother.

You have to live.


	10. Chapter 10

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 10: Quelle Bones, Diary Entry 1**

**Quelle Bones**

**Diary Entry 1**

_Dear Quelle of the Future,_

_Well, I'm at Hogwarts again. Third year. Everything feels... strange. For just about the first time in my life, I'm starting to struggle with schoolwork. And for just about the first time I don't feel like studying._

_And of the first time in my life, I'm an artist._

_Or I guess I might have always been an artist, but never noticed it before. It took him to get it out of me. Oh gosh, you need to help me, future Quelle. I can't get him out of my mind. This morning Lucy asked me who Ben was, and I panicked. I asked why, and she said I'd been muttering his name in my sleep._

_They've got to know sometime, but for now he's not to be shared, he's just mine. He's what's bringing out this non-studying thing in my head, I think. I used to look at History of Magic and think of all the history it held, how important it was. Now I look at it and I think, who cares?_

_Instead of reading about Emeric the Evil, I just want to picture his face in my head. His hair, chocolate and shiny in the sunlight. His eyes, deep blue and sensitive and filled with emotion, when he laughed they lit up. The way the slight smattering of freckles across his nose caught the light. The tan, creamy color of his skin. The skin of someone who got up at first dawn to paint. The skin of someone who got me up at first dawn to paint._

_Oh, future Quelle. Help. All I want is to be back there with him, to look into those eyes. To paint with him at first dawn. Take Emeric the Evil and shove it up History of Magic's-_

_Well, I guess the point of what I'm trying to say is I think I don't even know who I am any more, so be careful. I might do something very un-Quelle-like soon. Not that I'm planning to, but I'm just not the mousy, studious girl I was last year. Now I'm some kind of artist, and I can't stop thinking about Ben. I want to paint him, but I feel like I have to see his face. Why don't I care about Emeric the Evil? I should care. I should be studying, not writing about Ben._

_And I should be thinking about Lucy, at least. She's a wreck. Her father wrote her a letter. Her mum's in Saint Mungo's, and he had to go and mention she "might not make it", the prat. She hasn't talked in days._

_Help me, Future Quelle._

_-A Snapshot of Your Past Self_


	11. Chapter 11

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 11: Liz Finnegan, Flying**

**Liz Finnegan**

**Flying**

My world was too simple, it was almost infuriating. Quelle was acting all mysterious, and barely studying, and muttering in her sleep. And the other day, I caught her _painting. _Elle, demonstrating _creative expression_. Of course she wouldn't let me see it, but there was green paint on her wand before she banished it and I think she might have been painting me. Either that or grass. That freaks me out. I thought I knew Quelle- she was the one that was predictable. And now she's being all weirdly unpredictable. Laugh, I know. Quelle _painting _me. She probably just ran out of ink or something and was writing a History of Magic essay.

And of course there's Lucy. Audrey's in Saint Mungo's now. And Rose is practicing Quiddich all the time, since she's been accepted for Keeper. She keeps wanting me to come out and throw Quaffles at her, even though I'm not a chaser by any means.

So everyone else's life around me was a twisted mess, or just plain weird, or revolving around Quiddich. Roxi I suppose didn't have any problems. That was comforting.

I guess my life wasn't so simple I'd drop dead before anything exciting would happen. I was on the Quiddich team again. My hair was still green. Albus Potter had smiled at me the other day. I was still on the Quiddich team. My hair was still green.

I needed to fly. By myself, without flinging Quaffles helplessly at Rose. Her stereo was playing Taylor Swift, who was some yucky Muggle singer, and she was on her bed studying. Quelle was scribbling something down- probably schoolwork notes or something. Lucy was lying on her back looking at the ceiling mutely. Roxanne was drawing- you see, drawing was _normal _for her, since she was some fashion designer weirdie.

I left and no one even looked up. I guess ceilings, schoolwork, and drawings of scarves are more important than me, huh?

I hurried to the broom shed and pulled out my Nimbus. I mounted and took off above the pitch. I circled it multiple times, diving between the hoops. The wind threw my emerald hair back behind me, breaking across the bridge of my nose and whipping around my face. My feet were thrown back an inch, my shoulders absorbing the air as it cast a cool spell around me. I flew fast, trying to shake off everyone else's complicated lives.

Faster, faster, faster, faster.

I was breaking the limit of how fast a two-thousand could go. The Firebolts were much faster, but my broom could move faster than Rose's Comet Six Hundred. I flew up to the castle, followed an outdoor corridor all the way through, weaved around towers and turrets, zoomed over the courtyard and between two statues of brooms. I fit between the bars of the bigger bridge, and flew through. It was deserted.

Faster, faster, faster, faster. The wind tugged at my hair. My eyes began to water.

I dived in the best imitation of a Wronski Feint I could manage, only pulling up just before I crashed into the ground and broke my broom. Slowly, I pulled the broom handle back up and flew back up to the clouds like I was climbing a mountain. It was darkening, and some windows were already filled with butter-colored light.

I found the window that looked into the Girls Dormitory. I spotted an owl making his way towards it. Fear gripped my heart. If it bore bad news of Lucy's mother, I wanted to zoom past the owl, snatch the letter off its talons, and rip it into a thousand pieces and watch them fall, shredded, to the bottom of the trench the bridges hovered over. I hurried after it, but found an unrecognizable owl instead of handsome, polished-looking Hermes. I watched it fly in through the window and over to a bed of a first-year.

Elle was studying in the window. I was just feet away from her, her bed opposite from the way the window faced. I looked in at her. She was more beautiful than I usually gave her credit for. She had a very nice petite nose and stunning eyes- large and gray rimmed with sapphire blue. She frowned down at the book and shut it. I watched as she sighed and looked up into space. What was she thinking about? Where was I, Liz?


	12. Chapter 12

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 12: Roxanne Weasley, A Place That I Go**

**Roxanne Weasley**

**A Place That I Go**

Natasha Bedingfield's voice sounded from Rose's Muggle CD-Player. _"Take me away/Take me away/To a better day..."_

Lucy was lying on her back, looking at the curtain above her bed. She hadn't talked in days except to say, "Yes, professor."

Before Rose clicked the CD-Player off to go to bed, I heard a verse of the song Natasha crooned... _"There's a place that I go/Where nobody knows/Where the rivers flow/And I call it home/And there's no more lies/And the darkness is light/And nobody cries/There's only butterflies..."_

"Night, all," Liz said, sounding oddly numb in a very un-Liz-like manner.

Within minutes everyone was asleep. I doubted Lucy's eyes were closed, but she was in a dormant state.

So I did what I had done so many times last year. I crawled out of bed in my nightclothes and cracked the window between Liz and Rose's beds. I stood on Rose's end table, opened the window the rest of the way, threw up the screen, and crawled through.

I stood on the window ledge, which was very wide and long and made of stone. The trench gaped below me. In the night I couldn't see the bottom. Fear gripped me and my toes tingled. My white nightdress, painted over in random streaks of yellow and red and pink, fluttered in the cold. I gripped the stones just above the window for dear life.

But after a minute of cold terror, it was alright again. I hoisted myself up onto the heavily sloped roof, bracing myself against the strong gutter, and sat there. The moon was full. It cast down upon my face like one of Trelawney's stupid orbs, clouded and swirling with pure glowing white.

This was my pocketful of sunshine... the place where I go that nobody knows, where the moonlight flows, and I call it home.

I threw my head up to the wheeling stars, closing my eyes. A gentle wind of night blew strands of my hair back. My skin was a glowy light brown color, my eyes black and shining. I closed my eyes and saw subtle, soft patterns, watercolored on the back of my eyelids. So many Muggle songs flashed through my head...

_"I don't know where you're goin'/And I don't know why/But listen to your heart/Before you tell him goodbye..."_

_"I've got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine/I've gotta love and know that it's all mine..."_

_"'Cuz you know I'd walk a thousand miles/If I could just see you/Tonight..."_

_"I've been spendin' way too long checking my tongue in the mirror/And bendin' over backwards to see you clearer/But my breath fogged up the glass/And so I drew a new face and I laughed..."_

_"And there are voices/That want to be heard/So much to mention/But you can't find the words..."_

_"Do what you want, but you never gonna shake me/Sticks and stones are never gonna break me..."_

_"Makin' my way downtown/Walkin fast/Faces pass/And I'm home bound..."_

_"I won't hesitate/No more no more/This is our fate/I'm yours..."_

Maybe Rose wasn't all that batty for liking Muggle music. Some of it sure beat _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts..._

I leaned back onto the shingles, feeling each one rough and holding my weight to the roof. I was cold, but I didn't move. I sat there and breathed. I breathed hard, like I'd just finished two laps around the Quiddich pitch, but slow. When Lucy and I were alone once, last year, she showed me the meditating that Sola had taught her. First it just seemed so... Sola. But now I was doing it. Long cleansing breaths through my nose, inhale and exhale...

Which brought my mind to Lucy's mother. She'd always been like a second mother to me. Sure, she was rather boring and worked at the ministry. But she could be rather nice when she wanted to. She'd seen me cry many times, for my baby brother. Max. He died when he was two.

But Lucy's mother had seen so much more death. Her brother-in-law Fred, my brother's namesake, had been killed in the war. So had her family friends Lupin and Tonks, orphaning their baby son. Luckily, her husband Percy (Lucy's father) had lived. But so many had died in the final battle against- um- Voldemort. Our generation was lucky not to have so many wounds. We'd known no great wars.

And now Lucy's mother was on the brink of death. I could picture her there, on the white Saint Mungo's sheets. Her glossy ear-length blonde hair standing out against the pillow, her young-looking expression in her dark eyes turned older. She'd had blemishes through the summer, but I hadn't seen them and pictured her without them. Lucy's mother couldn't die. But she could- I could see it happening- it was so close- and yet, I willed the universe to let her live.

I drifted so close to sleep that I was so shocked at the slightest sound that I bolted upright, panting fast. It was a sparrow, who had landed at the metal point on the tower I was stretched out across.

This is the place that I go, where nobody knows, where the moonlight flows... and I call it home...

I never realized before that the world was just lines. If you sucked out all the color, as night did, there was only lines. Some were soft and tiny and detailed, others long and bold and simple. But we were just complicated line drawings, filled with careful color. The wind caressed my cheekbones and I drifted away again.

My friends and I were all so close now, and yet why did it seem we were drifting apart? Rose had been Quiddich-obsessed for at least a week. Lucy hadn't talked, as I'd mentioned, for a long time. Quelle was acting strangely, carrying a notebook around and writing in suspiciously long strokes. And I'd barely seen Liz all day.

I closed my eyes for the second time, imaging soft curved lines. They formed things occasionally... a bludger, a notebook, dress robes, a leaf. I watched them as night spanned on.

After what had seemed like ages, I slid down off the roof until my feet touched the stone windowpane. Ever so carefully, my nightdress billowing around me in the breeze, I climbed back inside the window and onto the end table. I shut the window and tiptoed to my bed, feeling warm... so so warm...

When I woke, I still breathed as if I was meditating. But I had a strange sense of sadness within me, as if it had crawled into my soul with the night air.


	13. Chapter 13

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 13: Lucy Weasley, I Noticed Vaguely**

**Lucy Weasley**

**I Noticed Vaguely**

I noticed vaguely after a week or two that I'd lost some weight. I wasn't as soft-looking as I used to be. My elbows stuck out in a boyish way that reminded me almost of Liz. I also realized that I hadn't washed my hair in the longest time. It looked kind of greasy.

I sighed at my pathetic self in the mirror and walked back to my bed. I did what I spent most of my time doing lately... just willing.

Live. Live. Live. Live.

Keep breathing, mom. Keep your heart beating. Just another day, for me. Get well, mom. If you die, I'll die.

Live. Live. Live. Live.

Sola had given me some ideas on Spiritual Healing and Positive Thinking, as she would, but for the first time... I didn't care. That sounded so cruel. All I needed to do was call her loony and start nicking her stuff, and I'd be as bad as the rest of them. But I honestly, completely, and wholly did not care. I didn't care what Roxanne was doing to her dress robes. I didn't care what song Rose was playing on her CD-Player. I didn't care that the Harpies had just lost a key match. I didn't care that the first Quiddich match was this Saturday. _I didn't care._

All that mattered was mum.

_Dear Mum,_

_I heard that you're getting better. Keep it up. You can heal yourself. Keep eating. I worry so much about you. Please hold on and push through, mum. I'm thinking about you all the time. Get better._

_-Lucy_

_Dear Mum,_

_Some idiot here told me that a cure for spattergroit is to take the liver of a toad, tie it around your throat, and stand in a barrel of eel's eyes without any clothes on by the light of the full moon. I told him to shove it up his nose, but I didn't say nose. I hope you'll forgive me. Please get well, please. I can't bear to have you be sick._

_-Lucy_

_Dear Mum,_

_When you're better, we should go down to the Ministry together and visit everyone. Like Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron, and Kingsley (or Mr. Shacklebolt) and Aunt Hermione. And everything. We could have fun with the fountain._

_-Lucy_

_Dear Mum,_

_Are you better yet?_

_-Lucy_

I took the letters and crumpled them up in my fist. They would only depress her, and according to Sola that was not something I wanted to do. Positive thinking and spiritual healing mumbo-jumbo.

_Dear Mum,_

_I love you a lot. Please get better soon for me. I'm worried about you. How are you? Send me a long long letter, please?_

_-Lucy_

Before I could destroy it, I tied it to Hermes' leg and shoved him out the window.

I was alone in the dormitories. Roxanne, Liz, and Rose were at Quiddich practice, and Quelle said she'd gone to the library to study. She was probably drawing, or maybe painting. She did that a lot lately. I was the only one that had noticed, but also the only one that didn't really care. Ironic. Now that I thought about it, it really was rather odd for her to be all artistic. It wasn't really an Elle thing to do. Study, yes. Read, yes. Paint, not exactly.

I had to get out of this stupid dormitory. It was driving me insane.

I left the common room, my eyes glued to my feet as usual, and walked out through the corridors. I followed them aimlessly, spiderwebbing back and forth, walking in circles, spiraling out, climbing random stairways and letting them change without altering my course. I eventually found myself outside, on the bridge. I had thought to sling a Gryffindor scarf around my neck, clashing rather garishly with my frighteningly pale skin. I shivered and burrowed into my robes. If it hadn't snowed yet, it should have.

Had it snowed? When I was little, I used to love snow. Now I hadn't even noticed. If it had snowed yet, the snow had melted already. I didn't care. I didn't care if I never saw snow fluttering prettily around the castle turrets again, as long as Mum was all right.

Be all right, Mum. Be all right. Don't let the world lose another brilliant woman.

I shivered. I needed to find Lucy again. This wasn't Lucy. Lucy wouldn't be out here, wondering vaguely if it had snowed, noticing absentmindedly that her hair hadn't been washed in days, looking at people like they were just unfocused ghosts of images, while her world revolved around thought.

To find Lucy, Mum would have to heal fast.


	14. Chapter 14

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 14: Rose Weasley, Quiddich Match**

**Rose Weasley**

**Quiddich Match**

The pitch was cold. I wondered if it would start snowing during the match. Just in case, I put the snow-avoiding charm around my face and broom. I'd be much warmer that way.

I'd been training for this, the first match of Slytherin-Gryffindor, for ages. I'd roped Liz into going outside and hurling Quaffles at the goal hoops. I'd savored every practice, reminding the chasers to try their hardest. I'd secretly loved Darren's training schedules, which were often vigorous and competed with our Potions essays.

I studied the other team as we walked to the center of the field. Scorpius Malfoy was the seeker and the captain. He was tall, pale, and pointed-faced. Most of the Gryffindor pretty much hated him. He was cruel and rather vile both on and off the field. The keeper was Enrico Goyle, a brute of a kid who surprised everyone by actually being smart enough to catch the ball. The chasers were all dirty Slytherin players, Mark something-or-other, Tom something-or other, and Omar something-or-other. The beaters were two lumps called Gregory (Enrico's little brother) Goyle and Norman something-or-other.

I watched as Scorpius and Darren shook hands. Time to start the match.

Madam Pince whistled. All of us kicked off the ground. I headed to the hoops. The chasers positioned themselves near the front. Roxi and Liz took the sides, beaters bats handing limply out of their hands. James hovered a little lower than everyone, watching for the Snitch to come out.

"Let the game begin!" she called, and let all the balls loose. Albus caught the Quaffle and tossed it to Peter while Darren flew halfway down the pitch. Peter threw long, but Omar knocked Darren out of the way roughly and claimed the Quaffle. Darren started muttering under his breath and I could tell he was not saying pleasant things about the Slytherin team.

_"And... Slytherin has the Quaffle! Was that dirty play? You complete oaf! Well anyways, Omar's got the Quaffle... nice try, Potter, but Omar's thrown it to Mark... and Mark is slicing down the field only to be blocked by Peter Owen, he's a new player this year but he seems to be quite good. Now Owen's got the quaffle- that's right, show them what you've got! Go Gryffindor... and... oh, he misses! I notice Finnegan conveniently hit her bludger at Goyle just at the same time as the Quaffle, nice move there... Okay, now the Quaffle belongs to Tom, and he's flying down the field... oh, here comes a bludger hit by Roxanne Weasley, and her aim is impeccable... ouch, that's gotta hurt! Anyways, now Darren Wood's got the Quaffle, and that's what matters..." _Harper Jordan rambled on. Her commentary was often opinionated, but McGonagall didn't seem to mind enough to find someone else to do the mic. When she was sick or something her twin sister Naomi did it for her, but Naomi was a Hufflepuff and not nearly as much fun.

_"Wood takes a shot at the left hoop- marvelous shot, if I do say so myself! Roxanne Weasley hits a beautiful bludger at Goyle, Goyle abandons the Quaffle and ducks the bludger! And it's a score! TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" _Harper screeched.

Omar took the Quaffle back to midfield and took off toward our goal. Peter tried to block him, but he swerved left and passed to Tom. Tom took off... he was close to me now- and shot. I had thought he was shooting left, so I dived left, but he shot right. I leaned so far right on my broom so suddenly that I almost plummeted to the ground, but instead I grazed the ball with my knuckles just long enough to punch the Quaffle out of the way!

The Gryffindor crowd roared. _"And, with an excellent save by Rose Weasley, Slytherin is denied its ten points! GO GRYFFINDOR! Now Peter Owen's got the Quaffle. And.. what is that? Has Malfoy spotted the Snitch? It appears he has! Don't let him get it, Potter!"_

James took off after Scorpius toward the Slytherin goalposts. There was the snitch- I could see it even from here- hovering between the right and center posts. It started to move, slowly for the snitch, to the left... towards Scorpius... and now it darted away to the Hufflepuff stands. James was gaining on Scorpius. Now Roxi positioned herself near a rocketing bludger, aiming at the pale blond head... and fired. I watched as it grazed his forearm. He grunted in pain, but James was unharmed. When it doubled back and came speeding him, he pulled slightly up, until he was directly above Scorpius, and let it zoom by.

And... the snitch was gone.

_"And the Snitch has disappeared! What a close call of Gryffindor! The score still stands ten-zero, but now the other Potter has the Quaffle. While all eyes were on Potter and Malfoy, Albus seems to have passed every chaser and beater. It's just him and the keeper now... and HE SCORES! IT'S TWENTY-NONE, WITH GRYFFINDOR IN THE LEAD!" _Harper called happily.

In another fifteen minutes, maybe a half-hour, the score was fifty-ten. Slytherin had gotten a goal in when one of the Beater-lumps aimed a bludger at Liz, who ducked, and whose green hair caught my attention while I just missed the Quaffle. _"That's all right, Rose... Gryffindor's still in the lead... just a lucky shot for Slytherin. She is a very nice keeper, you know. She seems to have improved over the summer."_ Harper assured, as Darren took the Quaffle and sped off.

And then the snitch was spotted again. This time it was James who saw it first. He dived low, only a few feet from the grass, arm outstretched and reaching for the snitch. Scorpius cursed and dived in following him, but he dived a little too low. His foot dragged against the ground and his broom was stopped. Cursing furiously, he kicked back off the ground. James was a good ten to twenty feet closer to the Snitch now- and- HIS FINGERS CLOSED AROUND IT!

_"HE'S GOT THE SNITCH! POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED POINTS TO TEN! AND A GREAT GAME!" _ Harper shouted herself hoarse. I left the goal hoops and flew down to center pitch, where Darren and Malfoy reluctantly shook hands. Malfoy looked furious. The look on his face was absolutely priceless.


	15. Chapter 15

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Chapter 15: Peter Owen, Brilliant**

**Peter Owen**

**Brilliant**

"Brilliant goal, man," Darren said in the Gryffindor Common Room. To me. Me! I was a Quiddich player! It was all so sudden. "Yeah," Albus agreed. "What was that, a curveball?"

"I don't know, what's a curveball?" I asked. "I dunno. Something I picked up at my- er- Uncle Dudley's. He's a... well he's a family friend, I guess. Muggle family. His kids are numbskulls, but one of them knows a lot about this Muggle sport called base-ball..." Albus explained.

"Here!" Fred Weasley said, throwing me a bundle of sweets. "The cauldron cakes are delicious! We nicked them from the kitchens!"

"I thought we weren't allowed in the kitchen," I said, taking out a large chocolate eclair. It was filled with this delicious vanilla cream. I took a bite and cream squirted everywhere, but it tasted lovely.

"Of course we're not allowed in the kitchen," Fred said, winking. "But there's a secret entrance behind this portrait full of fruit. All you have to do is tickle the pear. The house elves are quite nice, actually. They're the ones that gave me all this free food. Well I suppose all the food is free. But they gave it to me, anyways."

Darren, who had been on a strict Quiddich diet of grapefruit and protein for weeks, took a cake about the size of his fist and stuffed it in his mouth. "Delicious," he said, through a mouthful of chocolate icing.

"Disgusting," Roxanne Weasley shuddered, taking a small pumpkin-colored cupcake and eating it with small bites. Even after playing Quiddich, her braided hair was tied back in a French-braid-like thing. I thought it was called a French braid, anyways. Why the heck it is called one is beyond me. And French toast. And in America they call chips "French fries". Why do the French get credit for everything? The witches at Beauxbatons actually came across as sort of dense to me.

"Peter? I asked you a question?" Roxanne asked, smiling at me. She was actually very pretty. She had this lovely cocoa-olive-whatever toned skin and wide black eyes. Her hair was dark and usually braided tightly. She was a good beater. She'd sewn green and pink ribbons around the bottom of her Quiddich uniform, I noticed.

"Oh, sorry, what?" I asked her.

"I asked you if you think Scorpius's practically getting off his broom should have counted as a foul," she said, looking amused. "Maybe," I agreed. "But after all, James caught the snitch so quickly that Madam Hooch might not have noticed."

She turned to talk to Darren about something or other having to do with the Puddlemere vs Harpies game. I looked at the back of her head. How did you braid anyway? All the girls just seemed to know how to do it. No one had ever taught me, anyways, being a boy and all. Braiding was actually sort of cool, now that I thought about it. It would be kind of cool to learn how to braid. You could make ropes and stuff. Why I'd ever need to make ropes was beyond me, but whatever. Roxanne's braid- or was it a plait? What was the difference? Was a plait even like a braid?- went down to the high middle of her back. Her hair was this interesting brownish-black color. And within the braid were all these tiny braids. It was, like, braided braids. I wondered how that worked. I guess you just took a section of already-braided hair and braided it like each braid was a strand. Or a clump. Or whatever. How many clumps did you even need?

"Peter, you space case!" Albus said, whacking me on the head. "I was asking you if you wanted another eclair."

"Oh. I'm good. Thanks. But do you have any of those cinnamon things?"

"Uh... yeah..." Albus said, picking through the plate of sweets and finding me a twisty lump of cinnamon-ated dough. I took a bite. It tasted good. "We should go to the kitchen more often." I commented.

"Yeah," said Albus. "I'm sure it's against the rules, but it's brilliant."

I wondered where cinnamon rolls had even came from. I wondered if it was France.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Quelle Bones, Diary Entry 2**

**Quelle Bones**

**Diary Entry 2**

_Dear Fabulous Quelle of the Future,_

_Lately I've been drawing even more. I tried to paint Liz, but it didn't work. And I think she caught me painting her too. So I decided to stop using a brush and start using a quill. I've been holing up in bed and drawing things. No one's noticed, they think I'm studying. Sometimes I even leave my History of Magic book out for a prop. I occasionally pick up a wand and try to do a spell, but they barely work so I stopped doing it. I figure me doing spells badly is even more suspicious than not doing spells at all._

_I don't bother when it's just me and Lucy in the dormitory though. As she never talks anymore, it's not like she'll tell anyone. And she probably hasn't even noticed anyways. She goes to enough classes to not have repeat a grade and does homework when necessary, but other than that she's just passed time by staring at the ugly curtains above her head._

_I think she's probably going to take the Hogsmeade day to go see her mother. It's kind of sad in a way. All last year, and even first year, we'd speculated about how wonderful it would be to go to Hogsmeade. Benji always used to gloat to us about how fabulous it was. It seems nice... although I'm not sure about the Shrieking Shack. I've seen a photograph of Benji and a few friends standing in front of it, it was in his trunk all the time when he was in seventh year. There was also a picture of him and his girlfriend standing in Honeydukes eating lollipops._

_I actually haven't seen Sharon lately. I wonder if her and Benji are even still together, now that he's trying out for the Ireland team and all. He might be away more, especially since they're used to seeing each other every day at Hogwarts._

_Isn't it really odd how I talk about Benji like he's my own brother? Sometimes in my own confused mind I probably think he is. Liz and I are so close._

_Or were, anyways. She's been kind of weird lately. Mopey. So has Roxanne. Now that I think about it, Liz has been disappearing a lot. I wonder where she goes? Hm. Maybe she just takes a walk or something._

_So, I haven't gotten a single letter from Ben. I guess it's kind of hypocritical for me to be mad about that, because I haven't sent him any either. I'll probably send one once I have something to write about. Hey, maybe I'll send him something from Hogsmeade. I probably can't send him Butterbeer, although from what I've heard about it he might like it. Perhaps something from Zonko's. I don't know. Whatever I can find._

_Of course, if I could find paint or something I'd definitely buy it for him. Especially if it was in soft tones, or nature colors. I wonder if he's been painting much at Durmstrang. Over the summer he showed me paintings of the Black Lake, and dawn from his window. There were a few portraits, but he wouldn't even show them to me because he said they were much too horrible. He says he's awful at portraits. I bet it's the only thing he's awful at though. He's such a good artist. I bet they aren't even awful. He just hasn't let me see any of them, so I don't know._

_Okay, what I don't get is why it's so easy to write about him. Or think about him. Or paint, which reminds me of him. And yet... I can't talk about him! No one knows of his existence! Maybe I'll tell Roxanne. Maybe. I could tell Lucy, she wouldn't put up much fuss. Actually, she probably wouldn't even respond. Liz might snort milk out of her nose or something. And I don't know what Rose would do, to be honest. She never talks about boys._

_Another thought... is talking about Ben "talking about boys"? Is he considered under the topic "boys"? I don't know! Is he my friend or is he my boyfriend? WHY DO I EVEN HAVE TO ASK THIS QUESTION!_

_All I know is that I think I'm in love with him. It's never been clarified even that he exactly feels the same way about me, even though I'm pretty sure he does. Are we "boyfriend and girlfriend" or are we "just friends"? What are we?_

_This is just about the most confused I've been in my whole life. I think I'm becoming a new person or something. The transition is really weird. What is going on?_

_You know, future Quelle. Please help._

_-Quelle, Who Is Feeling Quite Confused and Wishing You Could Help Her_


	17. Chapter 17

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Liz Finnegan, Tears**

**Liz Finnegan**

**Tears**

"So," I asked Lucy, trying to sound casual. "Do you think you're going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"This Weekend" was practically tomorrow. It was like 11:00 on a Thursday, and we were all up late. Rose was playing her CD-player with some random Muggle song and studying. Roxanne was trying to pretend she wasn't listening to the CD-player, which I thought she might secretly like, and doodling in her Potions textbook. Quelle was... well, she was probably studying. I say probably because her History of Magic book was out, but she was weirdly protective of her notes. Her notes also looked suspiciously like a sketchbook.

Lucy, as always was staring at the ceiling. I wondered for a minute if she'd even heard me.

"I don't think I am," she said absently. "I think... I think I'm going to go to St. Mungo's instead. Dad did tell me I could. And, you know. I'd like to see her." She never lifted her gaze from the ceiling. For a minute I thought she'd elaborate, but she didn't say anything else.

"Okay," I choked out. "Great. That's fine." No one was looking up. Elle's History of Magic book dropped to the floor, but she didn't notice. Rose's radio stopped playing and started up again with some Muggle singer. It reminded me slightly of Celestina Warbeck, who was some idiot my mom used to like until my father finally told her how idiotic she was.

"I'm going to bed," I said finally. There was no point in staying up. No one was up to talking. No one looked up in a bewildered way. I was always the one to stay up late.

I drew my curtains shut. "Good night," I said loudly.

"G'night," Elle murmured absentmindedly from beside me. She still hadn't noticed her book had fallen off her bed.

"Night," Lucy said. I wondered for a second if she'd actually said it at all.

It took me a long time to sleep, and not because of the Lumos Maxima spell that Rose had around her bed. It was because of everything. Because Quelle was so distant, and she was becoming all strange and not talking about it. Because Lucy never talked at all, and never did anything anymore. Because Rose only noticed my existence on the Quiddich field. And because Roxanne... well, I don't know about Roxanne. She was probably going through the same thing I was, though we never talked about it or anything. It was like we pretended it wasn't going on.

And also because our first trip to Hogsmeade would be with only four out of five. I totally respected Lu for going to St. Mungo's. I mean, her mother was possibly dying.

But still. The whole thing kind of hurt. We'd been wanting Hogsmeade since first year. I'd been wanting it since Benji's third year, which must have been when I was eight. I wanted to walk down the streets laughing at our freedom. I wanted to get lollipops from Honeydukes, and sugar quills, and hunks of taffy, and eat them all together on the bench. I wanted to talk about things as we strolled around. I wanted to play pranks on each other with the stuff at Zonkos until we got kicked out. I wanted to laugh at Madam Puddifoot's, if it was anything like Benji had told me. I wanted to be like Benji and Sharon, and all his other friends.

I wanted it, couldn't I have it for once.

I pulled myself into a ball, letting hair fall in front of my face. Secretly, I thought my hair was beautiful. Rose had made a big deal out of it last year, and Quelle. Roxi and Lu hadn't minded much. But I loved it. It was really the prettiest color. My old hair was boring brown. Now I had this marvelous, shiny hair. The color reminded me of the water around the shore of the Black Lake where it turned green and fluid-looking. Those were the lightest highlights. Then it deepened, to a dark aspen leaf color, to emerald, and the darkest strands were a deep green.

And green hair matched my eyes anyways. It was pretty, I decided. It didn't matter what Elle thought. Or that Ashley girl, who hadn't said a word about it last year but snorted when she saw it this year. So rude.

Yeah, green hair worked. Better than a certain friendship of mine was going, anyhow. I tried to remember the last time we'd even talked together. It had to have been... well... before I noticed this odd little painting thing with Quelle. Before Lucy's mother had even _gotten_ Spattergroit. And I guess before Rose made the Quiddich team, too.

All in all, second year.

That wasn't fair. Before the Quiddich tryouts, that night, we'd talked a little. Most everybody was too exhausted to talk. Roxanne and I had talked a little anyways.

I finally fell asleep, very late at night. I had an odd dream. A bunch of people were standing in a circle. Quelle's family friend Alicia Thomas (who they had stayed with this summer), Lucy's mom, Sola Scamander, Benji, Sola's brothers Lorcan and Lysander, Damien Malfoy, Rose's dad Ron, Albus's dad Harry, Rose's mum Hermione, Albus's mum Ginny. And Professor Longbottom. And Celestina Warbeck. And then there was Lu, who didn't look depressed. Roxanne. Elle. And Rose.

And I was standing in the middle of the circle and crying.

When I woke up, my face was wet as if I'd been crying all night.


	18. Chapter 18

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble-- A Next-Generation-Harry-Potter Tale.**

**PART I: Faded**

**Part 18: Sola Scamander, Another Poem**

_So concludes Part 1: Faded. Part 2 will probably be up soon, I'm still working on it!_

**Sola Scamander**

**Another Poem**

_This year is faded_

_Like an old tapestry_

_Tea-stained and worn_

_I remember_

_A vivid tapestry once..._

_Where has it gone?_

_What has happened_

_To Lucy Weasley?_

_Why is everything different now_

_And why was it never this faded before?_

_What have I missed here?_

_What else has happened_

_While I was being the other girls_

_Around the world_

_That are me?_

_What else has happened_

_While my lightswitch here_

_Was turned off?_

_Why is everything_

_faded_


End file.
